Hiding her Beauty
by Germanys-pasta
Summary: In the midst of the second world war a troubled Nazi soldier named Ludwig is having trouble remaining loyal to a cause he doesn't even agree with. When he meets the innocent Feliciana Vargas, a reported Jew living in Italy, how could he turn her to her death? But how could he hide her? Germany x Fem!Italy
1. Chapter 1

The house was a flurry of activity with my subordinates rushing by me, a few of the higher ranked officers such as myself, were shouting orders back and forth to the lower soldiers. I shouldered past a few rookies who were scurrying past me to reach the man calling for them.

The small house wasn't ment to hold this many people running in and out, and a few of the older officers were beginning to pull a few of them out, sending them to the next location with some supervisors. It was a normal house located in the outskirts of a once bustling little town. So full of life and cheer where everybody knew everyone and exchanged greetings and goodbyes. And a birthday was an event where cakes were exchanged and love radiated off the streets and hung in the air like a fine perfume. The houses were spaced to allow the farmers their space and the women their clothes lines. In the town square was a beautiful tree, old and still growing, its green leaves only adding more beauty to the quaint town.

But, since the start of the war, the streets have turned dim, the windows are blacked out. The windows to a few businesses have been shattered and the happiness is only found behind tightly locked doors and buried under a mountain of worries. Birthdays are still celebrated, although, less as 'your another year older' and more of, 'your still in town'.

The people's once bright cheery faces are now sunken with lines of worry and creases of stress. The streets are swept by the lonely wind echoing from some desolate place. It seems as though when the sun comes out, it no longer shines; only benefiting the crops in their garden.

I tried not to think about it though; what we had done to this once joyous place. Although, I couldn't help but wonder if perhaps the house we stood in now once hosted parties and celebrations where the townsfolk gathered. They'd celebrate with food and laughter, kind words and brilliant smiles. Their dances were bouncy and quick, life and energy bouncing off the walls and resonating through the house. Then they'd settle around the table to pray for the food, bowing their heads with their hands interlocked. After the blessings they'd start in on the food; the cakes from the elderly woman, the bread from the baker, the rolls and butter from the farmer family, all of the creations from their network of townspeople.

But now we stood here, eyes narrowed and noses wrinkled, only out for blood. Like dogs we would search this place, tearing away at the seams of memories to find them. When we did we would take them and send them away, far away from their home, possibly with their family, probably not though. There they would likely die, the number that returned home was miniscule compared to those who died.

"Ludwig!" I was ripped from my thoughts by the sound of my name. A glance to my left revealed an officer just above me was pointing to the stairs, "You take them up." I nodded silently in response and pushed my way to the stairs.

At the stairs a small pool of new recruits were awaiting my orders, trying to cover their nervousness and excitement at their first task. Truthfully it sickened me a bit to see someone enjoy such a job as the one I possessed. Then again, they would learn, soon they would understand why my eyes had lost their young light they once possessed.

With a swift motion of my hand they straightened up and followed quickly to march up the stairs behind me. Without turning, I yelled for them to search the rooms, stealing into the last room of the narrow corridor the stairs had led us to.

The small room was less than extravagant with its shabby bed, the blankets rumpled a bit, nightstand with a dusty lamp, and wooden chest butted against the rough wood of the foot board. Across the room from the pathetic sleeping area was a large wardrobe, reaching up to the ceiling, its doors a dark mahogany. The edges were clean and polished, unlike the rest of the furniture in the room.

A window was placed beside the nightstand, framed by delicate lace curtains, swaying a bit in time with the wind seeping in through the un-insulated window. Outside the glass the pale moon was visible, its luminescent light bathing the green landscape in its blanched glow. The door to the house was hanging wide open now as a few officers still scurried in and out. The silence had long since been interrupted by my fleet's loud footsteps and booming voices; yelling back in forth commands in German.

The walls gave a warm glow as I switched on the lamp, its bulb shining brightly and gaily. Honey colored walls were bathed in the lamp light and displayed several dents and age marks.

I approached the bed and slipped a hand under the sheets, pressing my palm to the mattress and grimaced at the warmth I felt. Accompanied with the shallow indentation of a person's body, it was easy to tell that someone had been resting there recently.

It was probably the one thing I could truly admit to hated doing, everything else in this world seemed relatively bearable. Just imagine, finding them, a young girl or boy, an ambitious teen, an expecting woman, a hopeful man, even a child no more than two. Picture them for a moment, entire lives, full of stories, memories and cherished loves. Imagine all of that; gone.

All because of you.

That was part of my job description, find them and bring them to where they need to go. At least, according to the ideals of my government currently; and most seem to be going along with it. Although, perhaps I'm demeaning some of my level headed comrades in my country; the number who know what is going on must stop.

They could use a man like me, I was sure of it. I was strong, pushing myself in training everyday. I was trustworthy, never have I told a lie, nor told a secret. More importantly; I'm highly ranked. Getting on the inside could benefit them greatly.

The whole thing was perfect, all I needed to do was find their underground operation and convince them to trust me. Then I could do what I wanted to, I could save people. I could save lives, save children, woman, men, teens, and so many others.

Just the idea made my stomach flip in excitement, the situation seemed so appealing. But, the only attribute I held that eclipsed the whole thing, stopped the entire thing from coming true.

I wasn't afraid to admit it; I was a coward.

If I tried to pretend I didn't find the people I knew I would find; I would be charged with treason and then who knows what they'd do to me. And I was deathly afraid of that, no matter how strongly I resented what I was doing. Every night when I returned to my shared home with my brother, I would curse myself for following along with the twisted ideology like just another mindless droid.

Turning on my heel I made my way to the wardrobe and placed a gloved hand on the handle. With a quick tug the door opened wide for me, silently and quickly, a sign that it was new.

Inside the wardrobe all hung neatly were a succession of coats and sweaters, a few dresses were pressed against the walls as well. Along the bottom of the smooth wardrobe were boots, all lined up neatly. The leather of them shone like brand new boots, probably freshly polished. I reached out to grasp the top of a hanger, sliding the coat back to push the others away.

As he coats moved back, the skirts of the coats and sweaters caught on the brims of the boots, snagging and then flopping back off. But as I pushed away the heavy fabrics, I began to notice with a heavy heart how some of the sleeves that hadn't touched the boots were swaying as though hit too. The sight that greeted me was one I should have been accustomed to; unfortunately I suppose I was a bit too sentimental with this. As I always had problems looking to see their cowering forms, hiding as though I were the grim reaper himself. Then again, what with these times, I might as well have carried a scythe and wore a dark cloak.

The three girls gazed at me, terror swirling in their eyes. One looked around thirteen, her brunette and blonde highlighted hair tied back carefully in a ponytail. Her grey eyes stared up at me, wide and fearful, her hands clutching at the arm of the woman beside her. The other, with her arm around the smallest one, looked like she was in her early twenties. She had long curly brunette hair that tumbled around her shoulders, and green eyes widened and watching me fearfully. The baby, no more than six months, was tucked under her arm, laying its head on her breast. Its wispy crown of matching brown hair was tucked neatly under a hand knitted hat, a thumb stuck in its mouth like a stopper. The child's eyes opened due to the light, revealing her large grey eyes, mimicking those the young teen possessed.

Upon all three of the female's shirts was a slightly dirty yellow star.

"An den Füßen." I commanded, trying not to sound as harsh as most of my subordinates normally yelled at the Jews they would find. The woman untangled her arm from the girl's grasp and tried to help her out, only to have her stop, almost toppling over the boots. The girl's vision was blurry, unable to see everything with the tears gathering in her eyes. The sight made my heart wretch and I couldn't stand passively anymore. Gently, I took a hold of the younger girl's waist and lifted her out, placing her softly on her feet, giving her a quick sympathetic look. She stared up at me in a mixture of confusion and terror. Before she could say anything, I turned back and held out my arms for the child.

The woman got a slightly frantic look on her face, glancing over to her sister or daughter-God knows how they were related they looked so alike- only to see her unharmed. Her eyes were clouded with grief, not wanting to give up the child. I stayed quiet and left my arms outstretched for the baby, smiling gently. After a few minutes of internal battle, she hesitantly passed me the warm bundle, and I retreated with the baby in my arms, turning to deliver her into the arms of the younger girl before the older woman could grow worrisome for it. The blonde and brown haired girl held the baby close, cradling her against her chest and watched the woman still in the wardrobe anxiously.

I leaned in again and lifted the woman out of the wardrobe by the waist and set her down gently. When she was standing she took the baby from the girl and took her hand. "D-danke…" She murmured to me, keeping her voice low, knowing I'd get in trouble if they knew I had showed even that subtle display of kindness to Jews.

Her gaze, the fear subsiding a bit and turning to a gentle shade of thankfulness made my heart plummet. I shook my head sadly, "Nein," My voice was soft as well, knowing that my subordinates would begin piling into the room at any second. Just as I opened my mouth to say more, a voice boomed over mine.

"Ludwig! You found them!" A hand clapped down on my shoulder and suddenly the women were being shoved rudely into the hall, along with a few nasty snickers.

The woman held the baby tightly, glancing back at me helplessly, her eyes pleading and frightened. It was painfully obvious she knew I could do nothing, yet my stomach still twisted around. My chest felt heavy with guilt as she gasped when yet another harsh push was delivered to her shoulder, jolting the child in her arms and making the girl at her side cry out a bit when she hit the wall.

Again, here was that wave of ultimate guilt at what I had done. That time though, it ripped at me worse than it normally did, whenever a child was there it would do that. Just the thought that it didn't even have a chance for survival, perhaps if she left it with some of the officers at the car…one of them hides children and sneaks them out. It was the only glimmer of hope that gave a little slack to my stomach, but not much at all.

All I heard was a loud shrieking cry of the child, knowing the mother was probably being taken to the car and it was hungry, or tired. The sound made my heart strings hurt, like being pulled out by pliers.

"Nice work, Luddy." One of the officers nodded at me, and I forced a small smile and nodded back.

'Its just like camouflage' I told myself, 'just for survival. That's all. One day I'll be able to show my true colors. Just stay hidden for now…' I chanted, trying to block out the sound of my heart ripping in two.

* * *

><p>The moon was still in the sky, almost mocking me with its bright light filtering down onto the dark road. Our military truck, filled with people who's small cries were almost inaudible, bounced and bumped along the hilly countryside road.<p>

The summer night was another warm one and the windows were cracked, although it hardly helped the temperature of the truck. My coat was slung over my shoulders and I was leaning back in my seat casually. Beside me the driver happened to be my older brother, Gilbert.

My brother happened to be much more laid back than me, and tended to be less opinionated. Gilbert was a reckless man, never quite clean in his work or appearance. His silver, tousled tresses could testify to that. But nonetheless he was my brother and could make good wurst and get the girls.

As of then Gilbert was driving the truck with one hand on the wheel and the other elbow against the window. In his mouth was a glowing cigarette, the smoke wafting off of it slowly. His uniform coat was pooling at his waist, showing off his black undershirt and tight, muscular arms. The man's crimson eyes were fixated on the road, navigating the truck to where we would meet with the cattle car.

"Hey Gil?" I started, looking over to him after tearing my eyes from the window.

The pale man glanced over to me, "Hm?"

"What's Anya doing tonight?" Was all I could say, not sure exactly where I was going with starting a conversation. Although normally on our long truck rides we would talk about the girls. Of course, when I say that I really mean we're talking about Gilbert's Russian girlfriend, and my lack of.

The man could yammer on for hours on how perfect she was, with her silky platinum blonde hair, smooth, delicate features, dramatic, violet eyes, alluring pink lips, soft, curvy body, and sweet, accented voice. The girl was every man's dream wrapped in a pink dress and silk bow.

Funny thing was; I was sure that I loved the woman. Not like I was jealous of my big brother, but I was so extremely happy she was there. In a way she was a babysitter to him, well, a babysitter that literally sat on his lap and liked to nip at his earlobes. But ever since he started dating her, the less I've had to drag him home from the bar, completely wasted. It's almost like ever since she arrived my rules are actually enforced.

Such as the curfew, I had told Gil since the first week we moved in together that I locked the door at midnight. Yet he continued to come to the door at one or two in the morning, knocking and forcing me to get up and explain the curfew again.

But since Anya moved in with us, she always brings him home at eleven and makes him get ready for bed with her, finally to get to bed at twelve. Honestly to me it was like she was some sort of miracle worker, sent straight from heaven.

"pfft-! Me of course!" He cackled at his own ridiculous joke, then shook his head and sobered, "She said she's making a dinner for us now," Gilbert beamed at the thought of her, his ruby eyes lighting up. "She told me to tell you that she'll miss hearing your obnoxious alarm at the crack of dawn while we're in Italy."

I raised an eyebrow at him, "She said that?"

"Well…not exactly, but she did say she'd miss us while we're gone." My brother laughed a bit, his scratchy chuckle probably making the people in the back of the truck wonder if we had run over an animal.

Turning my gaze back to the window I nodded, remembering how we were being relocated temporarily. Only for a week or so, then we were returning back into Germany. Anya told us that while we were gone she would stay with her family back in Russia for a while. We were being sent down to the heart of Italy, straight to Rome. Some time away from Germany actually sounded nice to me, and I'd heard a lot of good reviews of the boot shaped nation. With its rich culture and kind people I figured it'd still have a bright sky as opposed to the gray one we currently sported daily.

As I watched the landscape zoom by we both began to pull our coats back on and prepare to get out of the truck and load the people into the cattle cars. This was probably one of the worst things about my job, first capturing them, then practically hand shipping them to their deaths. It made my stomach turn in knots and I felt like throwing up again.

"So while we're in Italy, you gonna find a dame?" Gilbert pulled me away from my thoughts as he wagged his eyebrows.

I forced a small smile, "I already told you, bruder, I don't need a woman right now. It really isn't a big deal." That was the response I had rehearsed over and over.

Gilbert sighed, "Not a big deal…jeez, Luddy, sometimes I worry you aren't really male or something." He chuckled as he buttoned his jacket with one blanched hand, working his fingers nimbly up his front.

The conversation iwas dismissed as I let out a small chuckle and he parked the truck. Out to the far left, sitting on the railway tracks, it sits.

Its chipping red paint job and worn wood planks that it was assembled of, was set atop a feeble steel frame to keep it on the tracks. The thing sat, crouched like a monster ready to spring and gobble up all the people we held in the truck. Although it was more as though I would be personally feeding it the people I had captured. The bottom wasn't the most stable thing in the world, but last time someone jumped out the bottom he had been killed by the recently installed bar on the bottom of the cattle car that blocked that route of freedom. The floor boards were also coated with a stinging substance, their feet were sure to be raw and would hurt intensely by the time their long ride was over. In the corner of the decrepit car was a bucket; the smell would surely be unbearable.

I thought about the small child the woman I had found held. That poor little girl, too; all three of them would have a very troubling time with the events to follow them. The car would be hot and stuffy, the smells more than unpleasant, and the feeling of standing for days would leave them aching and tired. But all of this was just a preamble to the experiences they had yet to discover. The little girl would surely be separated from the woman; I could only pray for the infant.

I let out a sigh, hardly prepared mentally for my task of loading them into the car. It was simple as long as you avoided eye contact and blocked out their low murmurs. Especially the younger ones, their small voices accompanied with their big vibrant eyes that look up to you, a mix of fear and helplessness as they whisper, 'Where's my mutti?" or, 'Have you seen vatti?'

As I threw open the car door and leaped out, I chanted to myself, trying to push all thoughts out. 'Its just survival. Just a temporary survival technique…'

* * *

><p>HURRAH~! I've been working on this chapter for like a week and had to finish a bit of it on Fanfiction because my Word program like...died. It no longer works. I need to see if I can get my dad to fix it...<p>

Yup, and Hetalia doesn't belong to me...this probably should have gone in the beginning but I hate scrolling through disclaimers so whatever, its down here.

And I DO NOT support Nazism in any way, shape or form. I will admit to being a WWII junkie and being very fascinated by the events of the time period. But I will not testify to being directly interested in the sick torture and events of the Holocaust and what happened to the many people who died. The whole thing makes me upset so don't go trolling, please.

As always, thank you for reading you lovely human. Please review~! *gives cookies*

EDIT: Um...ok, so its not Vatican City /FAIL/. I meant to put Rome...I feel so stupid! SX ...Anyway, so I've gotten a good amount of positive feedback, I'm really glad you guys like it! If you notice I added quite a bit to this...Its like reviewing, but its not...its just magical. The next chapter should be put soon...maybe sometime around Saturday. Thank you so much for all the support I really like reading the reviews! Bye~!


	2. Chapter 2

The soft amber light was slowly fading away as the sun continued to fall below the horizon. The delicate white curtains were swaying gently, illuminated by the light of the setting sun. Inside the quaint house were beige colored walls, framing the wide main room. As the sun fled the sky the temperature began to slowly drop in its recession. Inside the house the kitchen cupboards were less than overflowing with food. On one of the counters sat a rack to where three ration books had been tucked in the midst of several other letters and miscellaneous papers.

Just inside the main room of the small house sat a young women, her brunette hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders. Her amber eyes studied the project in her hand as she worked. The woman had petite hands and a matching frame, her smooth olive skin was practically glowing in the Italian light. From the depths of her curly hair one specific curl sprang up from the rest, sprouting off the side of her head oddly. In her hands was a garment of soft clothing. The dress was a dark material and the woman had recently sewed it herself as she was in need of a new dress, the other one had too many holes she could no longer continue patching.

She worked diligently to push the slim needle through the thick cloth of yellow and into the black dress. The seams were flimsy but she didn't mind, she wasn't really trying for perfection, she simply needed the cloth to stay attached to her dress. She continued to sew, rounding the peak of the third point of the star.

"Feliciana!" A voice snapped at her, making her jump and tear her gaze from her work. Before the young women was her sister, with short dark hair and a curl; similar to her own; jutting out from her wavy hair. "What do you think you're doing!" She growled at her, adjusting the strap on a bag she had slung across her.

Actually, bags were all around her. Two different suitcases were at her feet, stacked with a few other carpet bags. All seemed to be close to overflowing as she picked them up and stomped down the staircase. "Huh? Oh, well I was just making sure I had my s-,"

"Course you are! You're always bowing down to what those stupid potatoes say!" The darker haired woman snarled at her as she tossed her things beside the door and began to pull on her knee high boots. "I'm sick of it, Feli! Sick of it!" She cried.

At the couch Feliciana moved the dress off of her and rose to her feet, "W-what do you mean, sorella?" She asked, slightly worried.

As of lately Feli and her older sibling had had several different quarrels. All varying in length and heat, but all over the same matter. "I mean, I'm leaving already!" Lovina yelled, and grabbed her coat from the coat rack.

The current events of Italy were ones that seemed rather grim. The Nazi forces had begun to press into the allied nation and were beginning occupation in several different cities, deporting Jews to death camps. The only city that actually seemed relatively safe from the genocide was Vatican City; as it had proclaimed itself neutral at the start of the war. To Lovina, all the events wouldn't have seemed to be such a problem. But then she realized that she and her family were marked as Jewish. To be truthful, it was correct; at one point. Feliciana, Lovina, and their grandfather and caretaker-although it sometimes seemed it were the other way around- were all recent converted to Christianity. The change happened almost a year ago, unfortunately during war time. The Nazi forces didn't recognize the change and still enforced them to wear the yellow stars and were still mocked and discriminated against.

"Huh!" Feli stared, half heartbroken and half shocked to hear all of this from her sister.

"Antonio is coming to pick me up, he should be here soon." Lovina growled, watching the window intently, "I'm going with him to Spain." She explained, not making eye contact.

The younger Italian padded across the room, "L-Lovi! W-why would you leave though? W-what about N-Nonno and I?" She pleaded with her as she pushed the amber bangs from her eyes.

Lovina glared with a cold, unforgiving gaze, before looking back at the window. Her younger sister glanced down at her sister, complete with her dress much like the one Feliciana was wearing. Although her sister's dress was a gray and had short flowing sleeves, the seams were a bit sloppier as well; Lovina was never as good at sewing as her sister. Feliciana gasped a bit, "Ve….! Sorella, you're going outside, w-where is your star?" her amber eyes searched along her dress, seeking the missing piece of cloth.

"Ugh!" Lovina's nose wrinkled at her sister's words, "I told you! I'm leaving! They can't control me in America!" She snarled, making Feli shrink back. "I'm done being here; I'm done dealing with you!" The dark haired woman shouted just as T=the sound of a car horn made Feliciana jump and rush to look out the window and to her horror, see Antonio's car idling out front.

"Feliciana." Lovina took a deep breath, seeming to struggle to not yell again, "I've told you over and over I would leave with or without you. It's been a month and those Nazi idiots aren't stopping. We're still being called Jewish; they're coming for us, Feliciana." She told her, her eyes insistent.

The car honked again, "But Italy will always be safe for us!" she replied, "It's our home and nothing can hurt us here. No one can hurt us if we just stay together." a smile lit up her features, her eyes glistening with hope as she stared up at her.

Her sister's face remained cold and unwelcoming as her eyes narrowed and fury began to burn in her heart. "That's just it Feli! You really don't get it!" The woman picked up her bags and threw open the door, "They're coming, sorella. Fast. They're already in Italy!" She shouted at her, "I'm going where it's safe! If you come to senses then come to Madrid and take a plane to New York in America. Otherwise, have fun dying!" She spat and slammed the door, leaving her sister behind.

Feliciana stood at the stove, stirring the pot of low quality noodles in the boiling water. The scent was far from the lovely aroma she used to produce with her gourmet cooking skills. She could make the best pasta in all of Italy; at least that's what her grandfather liked to say.

Manned with her wooden spoon she stirred the dish again, grimacing at the smell that wafted off of it. Due to the occupation, the ingredients she used to have been no longer available to her or her grandfather. She gave a small, unhappy glance over to the ration books in the rack with all the many other papers; although she quickly looked back to the pot, mentally apologizing to the books. After all, without them they wouldn't even have the low quality food they had now.

After a few more minutes of languid stirring, she dished out the food onto two of the floral painted plates and turned off the stove. The woman wiped her hands on the apron she wore, and then reached back to pull the bow that kept the apron on her skinny form. She folded the white material and set it on the countertop, then turned to the plates.

With the plates in hand she went to her grandfather at the dining room table. The table was small but appeared so very empty and desolate without Lovina and Antonio there to occupy the two seats across from Feliciana's seat. Grandfather was sitting at the head of the table as usual and the small woman set his plate in front of him.

Her grandfather was a burly man, with short whiskers and matching brown hair like an overly curly mop on his head. His broad shoulders were covered by an un-tucked dress shirt and a loose tie. His pants were clean though, with a shiny leather belt round his waist. The man had the same bright, amber eyes as Feliciana did, although framed by his hair the same shade as Lovina's.

Feli set the plate down in front of her grandfather and stepped over to her normal place at the right hand corner.

Beside her the seat was empty, a spot everyone else had deemed was set aside for the lover she would one day find. Of course, she had never had any long term boyfriends, just small displays of affection with various guys. Lately she had deemed the topic of boyfriends and lovers a thing of low importance. To her, the greatest thing was her sister and grandfather; it was their affection she fed off of.

The dark cover of evening had blanketed the scenery outside their house, the lamp posts outside making golden beams bounce across the surface of the canals. The rich color of the streets was darkened by the lack of natural light, and left the streets looking cold and desolate with only the few soldiers walking along every once in a while. The sickly green of their uniforms made Feli cringe at the horrible shade of color.

"Feliciana," Her grandfather's gentle voice drew her out of her thoughts. "I think I should talk to you about something." The small woman turned to him and watched him with wide, curious eyes.

"Ve~? What is it, Nonno?" Feliciana chimed, her voice tainted with slight worry.

He sighed and took her hand, wrapping it in his own. "Feliciana …You're sister called a bit ago and said she was in nearly to the border. She and Antonio will be in Madrid in about three days. And I only say this because I love you, la mia babina," The young woman tensed, growing worried as to why he was getting so serious. Even in times where her neighbors seemed so grim, leaving only her to be a bright, cheerful candle in the darkness; her grandfather was always optimistic, however acutely of his surroundings and the danger homing in on them. "I need you to catch up with your sister and escape to America."

Feliciana's lips fell into a confused frown before her eyebrows knit together and she pulled back. "W-what?" She studied him for a moment, still in shock before pulling her hands away and stepping back slightly unsure. "N-nonno…."

The brown haired man sighed and stood up, he reached out to cup her cheek, "Alic-," but she jerked away again, frowning at the ground, slightly angry.

"N-No…I-I won't…" She said quietly, the woman was unsure of how to act. Feliciana was not one to get easily angered, normally she would stay upbeat. But she was growing weary of the constant prodding at her to move from her home.

Feliciana was aware that bad things were happening, but that was away from her home. Her home was safe, Italy was safe. No one from her family was captured; no bombs had ravaged their home yet, and she was most certainly not going to leave.

Her grandfather sighed sadly and sat back down, "Feliciana…"

The woman let her face fall into her hands, "I-I'm sorry…but I-I just…I can't…" She mumbled into her palms as she quivered a bit, some tears beginning to sting her eyes. A moment stretched out before she forced herself to breathe and pulled her face from her hands. "I-I'm sorry, Nonno…"

"No." The man smiled back up at her gently, "I would never make you do something you don't want, Feliciana…Please don't cry. But promise me…" He took her hand from her face and held it between his rough hands. "If they do come to get us," His eyes trailed to the yellow star on her dress, the corners of the cloth were curled and dirty from wear. "You'll leave, right?"

Feliciana watched him for a moment. His eyes were swirling with worry, mixed with affection. She blinked, realizing his concern. All he wanted was for her well-being, even if it meant uprooting her life. Either way everything was about to change, he knew it for a fact. The whole pace of their life, of the world was beginning to evolve. The great metamorphosis was affecting everyone; the world was suddenly paralyzed with fear at the enemy slowly rising to power.

Despite all the revolution he would tolerate the only thing he wouldn't be able to stand, was for his beautiful granddaughter to be dragged away to a death camp for such a ridiculous reason as religion. Especially since she wasn't even Jewish, even so, they wouldn't listen. To them it didn't matter if she was young or old. She was just another person labeled by a belief they grew up with.

Her grandfather knew he wouldn't be able to live if he knew they were keeping her locked in some grimy cell in the pit of Germany, or anywhere else. If her smile were to vanish, if the light in her eyes were to be put out; if Feli were to be broken…It would be like the last candle in the dark cavern of the war being blown out. The last light of hope, her flame burning brilliantly with her beauty and life. If that were to disappear…the cave would be left in darkness, not a single ray of light touching the candles surrounding her would be warmed. The cave would be an endless place of hopeless night; only at the end of the war would a piece of light ever touch them again.

"I promise. If they come to get us, I will escape."


	3. Chapter 3

I cracked my eyes open to see the morning light had barely touched the windowsill yet. My clock still read almost thirty minutes before I had to be up for breakfast. The events that would follow were ones I wasn't looking forward to, even with my elder brother to keep me company with the constant chatter of his girlfriend.

Speaking of Anya, the woman was standing beside the stove, a shallow pan of oil, popping and hissing as she dropped a delicate scoop of batter into the frying pan. She seemed to be making breakfast for Gilbert and me. It still amazed me that she was in love with my brother, the irresponsible, cocky and loud man was hardly fit for such a generous woman such as Anya. Although, in a way I'm grateful to Gil for dating her; otherwise I would still be dragging him back home after partying too much on a Saturday.

But lately I've had another reason to thank her. It's not really something new, but something I only recently began to notice how it affected even me. Ever since my brother started dating her, sometimes when we returned home and I would settle in my room or even in the living room with them to read a book; Anya would snuggle up to Gil and sing softly to him. I've always been aware of just how beautiful her voice was when she sang in her native tongue, or even when she sang in her nervous German; it didn't matter the language, the simplistic beauty of that sound that would roll off her lips was something I couldn't deny. It was like the morning's bird, out on its branch announcing the sun's arrival to the world with its sweet song. Her voice could match any bird's though, the notes that fell from her lips were something I had never recognized the true effect of though.

It was last night, after dinner that I made the discovery. I had drawn back to my room to read a book, but, as I read all I could hear was the cries, the screams, the pleads, all those people…Each of their voices, each small whisper for help, for hope; all of it was echoing in my head. The voices bounced around, endlessly clawing at the inside of my mind. Nothing would quiet them, not the radio, not reading, not writing, and not watching out the window. It was like a terrible curse that couldn't be lifted.

And it was driving me absolutely mad.

People don't truly understand just how insane a man can become when doing something he hates with all his heart. But, only then does he realize just what a coward he is. It's only when he comes to terms with that; does that happen. The voices, sometimes when I even blinked I could see their faces, contorted with terror and such intense sadness. As if the voices weren't enough.

It seemed as though being locked in my room was making it worse. As though the ruckus they were making in my head wasn't enough for them. Now they have to escape through his ears and fill up the previously empty air with their shrieks. The walls seemed to become smaller and the room became congested with their sound. All of the images, the noise, the screams, all of it! It was echoing, resonating through my head, all around me, cloaking me in a cocoon of misery. My heart felt heavy, surely made of metal, unable to be penetrated by the voices. But able to allow them to attach as magnets and weigh it down enough to anchor me to my desk.

Everything seemed dark, death and terror all around me. I tried to escape to the window, throwing it open in hopes they would leak out there, mingle with the silent night air there and leave me alone.

But when I did, nothing happened. The voices continued to pound at my ears and pressure my head. The ever gray sky of the city was of no help with emptying them from the room. But then it hit me; of course it can't leave that easily. The air outside was already completely drenched with the miserable cries of the people living here already. All the people scurrying to their homes, holding ration books in their coat pocket, hoping they won't be caught after curfew. All of their melancholy was already filling the air like smoke trapped in a sealed room.

Finally, with the voices about to drive me insane, I fled the sanctity of my room and wandered towards the kitchen. They seemed to follow me though, like a curious poltergeist; determined to haunt me.

I poured myself a glass of water and drank it in one long gulp. After quickly washing it and placing it back in the cupboard I turned and glanced out towards the living room. I could see Anya sitting on the couch with Gilbert. His feet were off the side of the couch, his head resting on her lap. The woman sat with her legs curled, her feet beside his shoulder and her hands running through his latticework of silver locks.

From where I stood her lips seemed to be moving, slowly though. Her words weren't English, and not German. She must have been talking to herself, or trying to teach Gilbert Russian again. But it didn't seem to fit a conversational pace.

I moved to the doorway quietly, the voices followed like a loyal dog, still hissing and shrieking in my ear. I pressed my shoulder against the wooden frame and moved a hand up to rub my throbbing temple. As soon as I had moved within hear shot of them; something seemed to stop. A sweet sound echoed through the room and slipped through my ears and swirled in my mind. The voices seemed to begin to fade, their sounds begin to lose their volume and fall away. My heart seemed to rise back into place, but only so it could listen intently. The voices seemed captivated as well. The phantom of their sounds seemed to stop and turn his head; just so he could hear the beautiful melody that was falling from her lips.

Anya sat there, stroking my brother's hair softly and singing in Russian a song I didn't really recognize. The lyrics, I didn't know what meant. But, what I didn't understand most of all, was why it made me relax so much.

Her voice a mother's heart beat to an infant, the night looming outside seemed to lighten the slightest bit as the melody filled the air. Anya's song was sweet and soft, a beckon of comfort in such a gloomy place. The warm feeling that wrapped around me and kept the voices away lingered long after I crawled back into bed and fell asleep.

But then in the morning light I sat, watching through the crack in the door as she swayed to the beat of an unheard song. She was neatly dressed for being so early, yet there she was, cooking as though the sun was out and smiling upon the world, instead of the gray clouds and gloomy smog that blanketed the city.

After a few minutes of her shuffling the food around the pan and stopping a few times to scoop some of the small, thick pancakes off the pan and onto a plate nearby, Gilbert appeared in the kitchen. He was in his usual morning state, his silvery hair unkempt and his clothing disheveled. My brother moved across the kitchen in an almost stealthy manner, which I didn't even know was possible for him. But soon enough he had snuck up on Anya and had snaked his arms around her waist, pulling her back against his chest. A smile grew tugged on her lips and her entire face seemed to light up with glee. The giggle that shook her was light and free, so different from all the nervous laughs I was used to hearing from everyone around me.

The whole scene was foreign to me, something I never thought was possible in the midst of such a bloody time. But if Anya had such a voice that could keep away the haunting voices, it'd only make sense that she would be the one to stand in a kitchen, swaying with a uncharacteristically gentle Prussian embracing her from behind, making breakfast like a mother for two soldiers trapped on the wrong side of the war.

Gilbert moved his head onto her shoulder, nuzzling her neck for a moment before turning a bit to study the pan. A sincere smile was painted delicately on his features. Anya dropped her free hand to stroke the pale skin of his arm, sliding up to his hand to tangle their fingers. It was as though the world had faded, leaving only them.

What must that be like? What did that feel like? To have the whole world just disappear, the whole war just vanish; with one embrace from the one you love? I had never been one for dating so the whole situation that morning made me very confused. Sure, I read some romance books Anya had recommended to me because of the adventure or mystery, but they never went through what it was like to be loved, or to love somebody. Honestly the idea terrified me; being tied to someone emotionally. And with an emotion that I had only heard to be so powerful too! In my mind at least, I felt like it would make me a prisoner to my heart. That my 'love' for a simple person would turn me into a weak man whose only motivation was their lover.

It wasn't even possible; no simple human being could love a monster like me. Nor could I the monster; love a simple human being.

* * *

><p>I had to admit, the air in Italy really was quite different than Germany. Back in my homeland, the skies were gray and the world seemed to smell like smoke and bombs. But in Italy, it still smelled like spices and the sky was definitely brighter, although, it did seemed slightly tinted darkly. Even so, I forced myself into the thinking that the sky there really was as cheery as I had first thought.<p>

Although, the world couldn't really stop from becoming slightly dark as we marched through the streets to a house in the distance. Beside us off the road was a glittering canal, although it lacked gondolas and the carefree people I had always heard about. Instead an occasional person was seen then quickly ducked away into the scenery, melting back into the background as though desperately hoping we weren't after them.

Everything felt as though the color was falling away, the world was suddenly only a grayscale. The war had seemed to take all the vibrant beautiful places and people and tucked them away, in a far away room where no one would see them. It left the world blank and dull, nothing but the color of blood was allowed to stay, all other colors were gone. This terrible bloody red on my armband, it remained with the symbol that made me feel physically sick to my stomach. Those terrible lines, the bent, crooked sign that could only represent death. Although, it really was designed to look like the cross had been bent. For a moment, I realized just how appropriate it was, they would take the thing so many died on, including a man I had heard only simple whisperings of in the winds near the churches. I may not have known much, but they always said he was innocent; just like the people I see daily. These people I see dying around me.

At that moment I wanted to rip the armband off, but instead I turned my eyes back down to my feet, watching them snap to march in the beat the rest of the troop had set. But there was no color except that accursed monochrome color scheme. The streets I marched on; they were gray. My uniform that was once a green color, that color was no more, no, now it was gray. The sky was a cold gray. The buildings were gray. My subordinate's faces were gray. Their hair was gray. Their eyes were gray. The water was gray. Everything was painted the same color.

It was all gray.

* * *

><p>Feliciana watched her grandfather anxiously, tugging at seam of the apron she wore. He stood at the window; watching out of a careful crack in the black out curtains. The silence in the room was making the young Italian girl nervous; her Grandfather was never like this.<p>

It had been almost been a whole day since Lovina had left Italy bound for America. Over the course of that twenty four hours Feliciana had been her normal self, albeit a bit sad when the thought of her sister's absence returned to her. She had managed to make the meals as usual and keep the house tidy. She had just finished making pasta for their meager dinner when a strange sound, like rain beating in time with itself began to reach their ears. Feliciana had the intention to ignore it, but her Nonno had immediately popped up and taken the position at the window, like a sniper readying his gun.

"N-Nonno? What is it? You don't like the pasta?" Feli asked as she curled her fingers around the fabric of the apron, wringing it nervously. Her gaze moved back quickly to the plate abandoned on the table at the place he had been sitting previously.

The man remained beside the window, raising his index finger to his lips towards Feli. Then he squinted out the small crack of the curtains, visibly tensing as a strange sound made its way to the house. It was like a parade, or rather, a marching band without music. Their feet all working harmoniously together, moving as though one.

Something inside of her made her stomach fold over, a feeling of dread almost like poison shot through her veins. The color in her face began to drain and she felt her hands begin to shake fearfully. The air was heavy and the walls seemed to lean in, like fingers trying to touch her. Everything felt strange, the air turning warmer and the house seemed suddenly far too small. "Nonno?" She piped up louder, ignoring his signal to keep quiet.

* * *

><p>We were quickly approaching the house that seemed to be our target. The house looked like the others around it; outside a pot of flowers was sitting, recently watered by a caring hand. The door looked as flimsy as the rest, it would be easily thrown open or kicked in, whatever my superior decided.<p>

Time felt blurred and dull, just another family, just another person, just another life; stolen and uprooted. I followed, feeling hollow and vacant as the troop came to a halt. I didn't bother to glance over at my brother, I knew he'd just be staring straight ahead as we all were. My superior marched to the door and skipped the knocking, deciding for the much more efficient way of just throwing the door open.

The door crashed against the wall inside, making a terrible CRACK boom throughout the house, making the items inside shake in response. He didn't hesitate to begin his sprint into the room. We all followed orderly, filing into the house and beginning to comb through the building in search of people. It didn't take long for a soldier to come out holding a grown man with brown curly hair, his eyes were clouded with something, was it despair? It had to be, that was what it was always. It would swirl and glaze over the eyes of the people; despair, or terror, sometimes even horror. But, for whatever reason, his honey brown eyes were different; they held a different emotion.

I didn't realize I was staring until those eyes turned up, and for a brief, fleeting, dare I say haunting, moment, our eyes met. A sharp clash of my icy blue orbs and his soft amber eyes. Something in my gaze must have given something away, something in the way my hair was falling out of place, the way my hand switched in my thick gloves; something, because for in that second; his gaze soften. The soldiers around me, previously rushing by me, seemed to slow, their feet falling in at a pace slower than possible to be running. All of that moment was absorbed by those eyes, piercing yet warm; like the sun breaking through the clouds after a storm, making the grass glisten with the drops of remaining rain.

Before I could respond, before I could do anything really; he had already looked away. The man's gaze was already trained to the ground as my subordinates began to usher him outside the house. Time began to resume and the sounds of the raid was picked up again like the chorus of a familiar song.

"Come on Ludwig, up here!" I heard from across the room, forcing me to snap out of my daydream. If I remained any longer in my daze I would have drawn too much attention to myself, so I scrambled to where my brother was beckoning me over to the stairs.

All I saw was his silvery hair bounce up the stairs before he disappeared upstairs. I hurried up the stairs, dodging past the others and making my way to the corridor above. The hallway was long and slightly narrow, not exactly what I had been expecting as the house was on the better side of town. Either way, I ducked into the first room to my left that no one had swept through yet.

The room was to be expected a simple bedroom, not a grand area, but not a terrible place to be. The bed was located in the center of the room, with a simple white spread and afghan blanket folded at the foot. A dresser had been pushed in the corner and was decorated with a few pictures of popular Italian singers and handsome public figures. In the corner an easel was set up with a canvas, a sketch of a vast landscape had been drawn out and only half painted. The paint tubes were curled and half empty, the caps crusty with a layer of paint dried on. The brushes were in a cup that was stained a rainbow of shades and looked chipped and old. I swept over there for a moment, my mind going blank and tuning out of the roar of the raid.

The feeling like that of that morning when Anya and Gilbert were in the kitchen tapped into me again. The painting was like none I had seen, each brush of paint was delicate and precise. All the art I had seen seemed to lack these colors, this attention to detail and beauty. Despite being little more than half way done, it took my breath away just looking at it.

It seemed to be the view of the city, though, it seemed almost inaccurate. That painting could not have been what anyone was seeing; especially an artist that lived in a small house like that. Was it even possible for a place like that to exist at that time? The resemblance to the view out of the window was almost painful, like a mirror set on the city. But, it couldn't have been possible; it showed the sun rising with gentle, soft amber colors. Those colors didn't exist in the sunrise though, I should know, I watched the sun rise every morn. The sunrise I watched daily in Germany, and the one I saw in Italy were the same. They consisted simply of a gruesome smear of bloody red and festering orange.

But, the painting was something entirely different. The colors were only the warmest of colors, the orange wasn't the color of infection and disease, and rather, it was the color of a sweet summer orange. The reds weren't bloody and brashly splattered on the canvas; instead, it was the color of a young girl's cheeks igniting in the presence of her crush. All of the colors, each chosen so carefully and affectionately.

Before I even knew what I was doing my fingers had already rushed out before me and were running along the dried lines of the paint. Then falling down to the uncolored areas, the canvas was an unknown texture beneath my gloves and made a soft sound. My mind wandered to thoughts I had never even come across, that maybe somewhere in the world…there might be a place not infected by the darkness that cloaked the sky currently. That was possible right? It had to be, no one could just paint something so wonderful without actually seeing it…right?

Either way, whoever had painted it I knew for sure, I was jealous of. They had the ability to see something so magnificent…yet, no one else could; or rather, I couldn't.

* * *

><p>The air beneath her bed was absolutely stifling. The dry, dusty air she was forced to suck in through her mouth scraped down through her throat and into her lungs. Feliciana was curled in a tight ball under her bed, eyes wide with fear and her body shaking violently.<p>

The fear had two main feeds, the fading one happened to be her very own grandfather; with his wide eyes and trembling hands. His voice was cracked and frantic; his tremors shook her when he clutched her shoulders as he warned her. The words kept repeated and bouncing around her head, almost making her dizzy. The terror in his eyes alone could have given her the same message he had stuttered out.

'Hide.'

With nowhere else to hide besides where she had as a small girl, she immediately ran to her bedroom and ducked under the bed. There she blinked back the fear induced tears that stung her eyes. She hugged herself tightly and tried not to shake like a leaf as she felt she was going to. But instead forced herself to keep an ear against the ground and try to listen for her grandfather to call her back down to the kitchen and tell her that it was a false alarm. That everything was OK, everything was normal.

But in those moments that she managed to calm her shaking and listen intently to the silence that stretched around her. The only sound but of her heart beat hammering in her ears, filling the quiet that seemed to suffocate her. The floor was dusty and grainy under her cheek, nearly making her sneeze. But she held in the sensation.

Images of her grandfather flickered in her head again, a hollow feeling began to make itself known in her stomach. The words he said to her, the feel of his lips pressing against her forehead, his face, it all felt like the last time she'd feel, see, or hear that. 'When you hear no more noise, count to sixty. Once you've counted up that, count it again.' His voice was so shaky; his smile had melted away behind that terror filled frown. Grandfather's large hands seemed to hold too tightly to her shoulders, yet he didn't release. 'Once you're sure that they're gone I want you to run as far as you can. Catch up with your sister, leave the country, something! Just get out of here! Got it?' He asked, eyes wide and frantic, his arms shaking violently.

'S-sì!' Was all Feli could respond with, scared to say much else.

BANG!

Feliciana jumped and clamped her hands over her mouth before she could scream. She curled up tighter, her heart beating a thousand miles an hour, it nearly blocked out all the sounds coming from the floor below her. But the sound like wild boars charging inside the house made the tears that had previously dried and crusted away began to resurface again.

The sounds grew louder as the great thunder of boots on the floor navigated up the stairs and closer and closer to her. She felt panic and fear mix inside of her, making her stomach fold and flip. She craned her head carefully to try to see what was going on. But from under the bed all she could see was half of the room and the door still wide open from when she threw it open in haste to duck beneath the bed. As she waited and the sounds grew louder and nearer to her she soon saw the flicker of shadows spanning over her bedroom.

It was true.

Lovi was right.

They were here.

She was dead.

Thoughts flew through her head, overwhelming her and taking a new hold on her. Like cold fingers wrapping around her neck and slowly tightening she held back the wave of tears that suddenly willed to be freed with loud cries. But she instead bit down on her hand and let a few tears leak out of her eyes, as her shoulders trembled and her legs quivered as well. The whole situation made her feel like a great weight had that had been looming above her had fallen and crashed onto her shoulders. The crushing weight made more shuddered tears roll down her cheeks as she muffled the sound of her choked sobs.

She managed to swallow down her tears and cries and forced herself to stay as quiet as she could. Feli couldn't just leave her grandfather like this. She would escape and do as he wanted if it killed her; which, if she wasn't mistaken, it likely would. The small woman bit her lip and waited impatiently, the sounds of them rummaging through neighboring rooms filling the air around her, making her feel slightly sick. Lovina had been so right to leave; Feli quietly sent a prayer of thanks that her sister wasn't there, and also prayed for her safety.

Feliciana's murmurs under her breath were cut short when the sound of boot heels came clicking into her room. She sucked in air and bit down on her hand, trying to keep her breathing regular and tried to steady her heartbeat, hoping that the intruder wouldn't be able to hear its obnoxious pounding. The stranger didn't seem to suspect anything and moved about the room nonchalantly; well, for a soldier that is.

The mysterious person sauntered over to her wardrobe, silently observing and inspecting. Then they moved over to the side of the room she was unable to see, frustrating her slightly. But she didn't dare move to avoid making any sort of sound, even if it would be the soft rustle of her clothing against the floor. She pressed her sleeve to her mouth to muffle the breathing and squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to make any noise.

The feet has ceased movement beside the easel with her canvas still sitting atop it, proudly displaying her art. She worried what the person would do to it if anything. Perhaps throw it down for cruelty's sake? She fretted over the painting for a few more seconds, then minutes, then finally the footsteps shuffled over towards the bed, making her begin to inwardly panic. She couldn't see them, which made her even more anxious. Did they know she was there?

Visions of the bed skirt being lifted away, leaving her exposed ran through her head and made her tears reappear. _No!_ She shrieked at herself mentally, _if I cry now then they'll find me and I'm dead for sure! _But her imagination was relentless; the thoughts of the intruder stealing her from under the bed violently filled her brain. She tried to force herself not to hyperventilate, although that was difficult, even without the terror that ran through her system. The dust that mingled in the musky air that loomed around the old springs of her mattress made it hard not to sneeze. Breathing was a whole different story for Feliciana.

The more she focused on that the more she felt her throat begin to seize up with a tickle like the devil's finger creeping up upon her. Feli leaked out a few tears and tried to swallow the cough down, but only succeeded in making the sensation more intense. She reached up and clawed at her throat, tears falling freely yet she made no sound. Feli was panicking more than she had ever before. Now she felt small spasms in her feet from being under the bed for so long and the anxiety of the situation truly hitting her.

_Please God, _she prayed in her mind, squeezing her eyes shut through the tears. _Do with me what you will, but protect Lovi, Antonio, and Nonno. Please let this cough be released after the Gestapo have left. Allow me to escape from these people and find my way to America._ _But also let me do what you will me to. _The dreadful feeling of the cough dragging it's cold claws down her throat filled her, but still she forced the sensation away. She felt the tears fall faster now, trailing down the already wet cheeks and dripping onto the floor. Feli knew she couldn't hold it in any longer. She tried to hold it back longer, but she knew it was coming; and that intruder hadn't left yet.

Feli's tear came down even quicker, sliding down from her eyes and rolling off her face. Her nose was now unusable as the crying had clogged it completely. The puddle of tears under her cheek was warm and growing, reaching out to touch more ground and farther reaches of her face. The Italian's sun kissed face was slightly red from crying and her hair long hair once neatly weaved into a thick braid, was now disheveled and messy. She removed her saliva soaked sleeve from her mouth and moved to a dry place, pressing it tightly to her mouth.

_This is it, _was her only thought as the cough ripped from her throat, only muffled by the thin sleeve and the bed.

Then, opening her eyes with a terror filled reluctance, she watched as the warm afternoon light poured in through the opposite end of the bed. The shadows of her body fell over the bed skirt in front of her and her tears began to slow as the fear and panic sent a sharp wave of despair in her stomach.

The bed skirt had been pulled away.

* * *

><p>FINALLY I finished it. "=_= I've been really busy but school got out so I spent a good few hours writing late at night and finished it. Sorry if the ending is crappy, that was slapped together last night and I didn't want to change it this morning cuz you guys have been waiting so patiently for it.<p>

Oh and sorry for the name change on Italy! I had as Alice and then I really didn't like that even though I had a plan for it to be switched to Feli in later chapters...but then I flipped them cuz I was sick of calling her Alice. Oh and by the way, it's not Alice, like the English name, but it's pronounced AL-ee-chay. Just to be clear.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia!


	4. Chapter 4

It was probably the strangest sight I had ever seen, although it should have been expected given the situation. Underneath the neatly made bed was one thing I hadn't really thought I would find, it impressed me she had been so quiet given the tears that were falling so freely from her eyes. Her cheeks were red and her amber eyes were weighted with water at the edges, dripping down her face. The lithe woman's flushed face was framed by disheveled brunette hair that shone brilliantly in the afternoon light, even under the bed. The Italian had turned over when I had pulled away the bed skirt to find out what that strange noise was that came from under the furnishing.

Her back was turned to me, but I already see that her shoulders were shaking and her legs were twitching. It was easy to see just how scared she was, it was rolling off of her trembling form like a thick fog. A part of me didn't want to touch her, she would probably scream, and that sound always haunted me. Now of all times I didn't want those voices coming back, I didn't have Anya nearby, I didn't want to be stuck with those haunting voices with no hope of relief.

I hesitated before reaching under the bed, despite the feeling of my heart folding in on itself, I knew if someone else found her and I didn't I could get in trouble. My gloved hand brushed up her back before resting on her shoulder where I gently tugged her towards the outside.

She seemed to freeze like a small animal of prey in the eyes of a predator, her quivers ceasing and her body going stiff. I pulled her out from under the bed anyway, my expression as stoic as I could make it. Not a few inches I had moved her before I had to put my other hand in on her hip and pull her the rest of the way, although careful not to give her any splinters, I didn't want her to end up with an infection when on the way to whatever camp she would be headed to.

The thought of the camp made an unpleasant shiver lick up my spine and I tried to dismiss the thought but only made more images flicker through my mind. It didn't take long for the voices begin to sing their chorus of blood curling shrieks and pleads of mercy. The sounds made my stomach fold and my heart sink, the same symptoms as always. My hands were shaking but I forced them to still, I didn't want to scare her.

Just as my head ache began to resurface and pound at my temples I turned my attention back to the small Italian woman that I was still holding under the bed. I realized I had been day dreaming, I suppose one could call it that anyway, and immediately began to pull her again towards me.

But as soon as her small body had been slid out from under the bed, and I had moved my hands again so one was on her right shoulder and the other on her left hip, and her arm had bumped into my knee; I glanced down to actually see her. The woman seemed to shiver and curl up more when I turned my eyes down on her, and for some reason, it made dread rip through my stomach.

Sure, it was normal for me to feel guilty at what I did, but how long had this been going on? I had been taking all these people from their homes for so long now. The war had been in full swing for so long, I supposed I had never really thought about how long all of this guilt had been building up. When the voices appeared I guess I was slightly suspicious as to if it was getting to me, but I simply dismissed it, deciding not to focus on the voices too long.

But right then, that moment that I stared down at this woman, quivering and eyes squeezed shut, shriveling up like an autumn leaf, all because of the fear that was pulsing through her like a prey animal in the jaws of the predator; I finally realized how long I had been fooled. Fooled into the mindset that these raids for people were something I couldn't fight against, that I couldn't use these times to my advantage; that I couldn't help people during these. Sure, I didn't believe I could do it large-scale, but…perhaps just this once. Surely I couldn't be caught, right?

The thoughts flooded in as I immediately ripped my eyes off of her as more tears leaked out her eyes and into her hair, her crying was still silent, her breathing shallow. I raked my gaze across the room, searching for somewhere to hide her; surely there was a place. But, it was all barren and obvious.

Cursing under my breath I unconsciously began to tighten my grip on her shoulder, causing the woman to squeak and open her eyes open in surprise. Her face was framed by light brown hair, a few streaks here and there from the sun highlighting it. The woman's face was soft and her features were round and girlish. Her hair was a tangled mess of a thick braid, thicker than my fist actually. From the side of her head sprang a curious curl that seems to shake as with her tiny shivers that I had only just noticed were racking her body.

Just the sight of her quaking made the voices began to pound and slam at my temples again, clawing at my head and dragging down my insides. I shuddered at the feeling and tried not to let it get to me, but just that small notion. That she felt so much fear and terror because of me, a man I had didn't want to think about, let alone be.

Before the war I was just a German man with light blonde hair that would hang in my eyes if I didn't comb it back like I usually did. I preferred that it be quiet so that I could work or at least concentrate on something such as a novel or other light reading. I loved to wear formal clothes, deciding I'd best look professional when people viewed me. Although at home, where I had a hobby of exercising often, I could be caught in loose fitting clothes that would be easy to jog or lift weights with. I would listen to the news while I cooked or when I was cleaning, only a few months ago (or was it a year?), did I hear about a public speaker beginning to surface in the country, an Austrian man whose name could be found in the newspapers.

And now, here I was. I read from time to time, and I still preferred it to be quiet, but the bomb sirens don't make that easy. My clothes I wear in public on the job are ones that many people shudder at the sight of. My clothing tends to be of a green color, a uniform to be exact. I no longer cook at night or clean the house myself; Anya tends to do that. Now I avoid the news, I get it directly from subordinates whenever there's an Axis victory. Normally they all invite him out for drinks if it's a major victory, although sometimes a minor victory is enough for them. My training was daily now, and I carried something much more heavy than a simple weight.

I carried a swastika on my armband.

Immediately I let go and she squeaked again, staring up at me with her large

amber eyes, shaking and watering. Stiffly I leaned down and quickly whispered, "Stay quiet," but when I did she only shook harder and didn't seem to understand. "Crap, you don't speak German do you?" The girl stared at me still, her gaze oblivious and confused. I bit my lip, scrambling for a moment before wrenching out those stiff words, "Do you speak English?" the phrase made me cringe. My English had always been terrible, sure I didn't freeze up and not know how to say certain things, my problem was that I had trouble pronouncing some of the words. Silly things like 'squirrel', whenever I reached a word that I couldn't quite croak out, I would quickly evade the word or run through synonyms for it. Perhaps for other people it wasn't hard for them to just say the word or laugh it off after they get themselves tongue tied; but for some reason I always felt far too embarrassed when I couldn't pronounce a word. It was probably my pride that made me fear looking foolish; as my brother had no problem shrugging it off and having a laugh about it.

But despite my words being so heavily accented and quiet she seemed to understand, "Y-yes…" She said, panic still plaguing her eyes. "W-what are you going to d-do to me?"

Just as I opened my mouth to respond I heard voices from outside the room, perhaps in the other room. The barking of German made a shiver run up my spine and I quickly glanced around then turned back to the woman, "No time, what's under these?" I pointed at the floor boards I was crouched on and she gave me a confused look.

"N-no one," But I shook my head again, growing impatient and nervous.

"Nein! Is there a space beneath these!" She seemed to cringe at my tone but shook her head, her amber locks flopping over her face.

She held back a few more tears and stuttered out, "T-there's a space beneath them because the house was made w-wrong." Then she shut her eyes as though flinching from an attack.

Before she could say anything else I had popped up from my place and began prying up the first loose board I could find. Obviously before I did anything that would hide her I bumped the door most of the way closed. It was then that I realized it, 'I was hiding her, I'm saving a life.' The thought made a flurry of thrills run up from my stomach to my spin and up to my head. But I quickly sobered and forced up the board, inspecting the small space below.

I glanced back to her and motioned for her to come towards me; finding she had sat up watching me with curious yet fear filled eyes. The woman stayed where she was for a moment, but then left her place, stumbling towards me with a confused expression. As soon as she was in arms length I snatched her into my arms and lowered her into the space carefully.

It was so strange the way I could vividly recall the details of how her small frame fix perfectly in my arms, and how light she was. The way she curled into my embrace was so warm and affectionate, like a helpless lamb finding the shepherd again. The scent of her was so sweet and swirled up by my face, momentarily making my head spin. What was this? This warm feeling I felt when I held her close; this embrace that lasted but a few seconds, why did it make me feel so safe.

Where could this come from? Had I fallen into a different world? A feeling this tender and sweet couldn't possibly exist in the world I was familiar with. My world was one consisting of grey skies and murder all around me, jealousy, vengeance and hatred clashed and brawled across the land. No hand of mercy touched anywhere in my world, a simple caress of gentility would throw off the balance surely. Just like that painting, that sunrise couldn't be real. It had to simply be a fictitious scene someone dreamed up; just like that bewildering flood of warmth and security I felt at that time.

Mere seconds felt stretched and long, but strangely, I didn't want them to end. Never had I been able to recall a feeling as that one. Ever since the beginning of the war, and well before, this feeling that made everything melt away around me. And more importantly, made the voices silence. It was like Anya's song was playing again in my head, yet, the only sounds I should have heard were raspy voices barking in German. But instead all I could hear was the soft sound of rain beginning to drip onto the window and roll down the glass. The voices disappearance made me feel like a weight had been lifted off of me as I held the girl near me in those few seconds. No matter how long that time felt, it only left me wanting more when it was gone.

As those moments fell away from me, so did the feeling, slipping out of my arms and carefully tucked under the floorboards. The young Italian was fit snugly in the space and curled her hands over her heart and stared up at me. "G-grazie," She whispered, making something move in my chest.

It was so strange, I felt like it wasn't really happening, more like a vision or a dream. Part of me was in awe of the girl, not screaming when I touched her. I was a monster wasn't I? Didn't she smell the scent of death clinging to my uniform? Another part was nervous and insisted on making my hands tremble in fear of being caught. The adrenaline from both sources made me feel light headed, and everything felt odd.

But somewhere inside of me, I could feel it, like a small flame being lit. Somewhere all of that guilt, all of that longing, it all suddenly came upon me in a flurry of joy. It shot a thrill up from my stomach and clear to my hairline. I felt like a prisoner laden with heavy shackles that after years of sitting inside their cell was finally freed. Like suddenly the sun had broken through after the long, harsh hurricane.

Those feelings, each coming quickly and making my lips twitch up a bit, made me feel like the war didn't exist. Almost as though I had dreamt up all those terrible horrors, just a nightmare I had been plagued with repeatedly. And to have that taken away, to be rid of that terrible dream…

It was absolute bli-

"Ludwig?"

* * *

><p>I know, another cliff hanger, I'm a jerk. : P anyway, I'm SO SORRY for how late this is...and I feel like I cheated you wonderful people...this chapter is really short and crappy. I apologize "=_= I'll make up for it in the next chapter, I promise!<p>

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia

Please review~! I love those things like my own dear (demonic) kitten~! : 3


	5. Chapter 5

The moon's pale glow was the only light that pierced through the darkness of my bedroom. It had to have been half past two by then, but I couldn't sleep still. The shadows in my room were all too restless to me, they kept moving and dancing in the moonlight. And even as I was curled in my bed, I still could only think of how I longed to rejoice with them. Even as the moon crept higher into the sky and forced them to retreat from its light, they still embraced that fate, as though it were sinking under the horizon and allowing them more room to roam.

Perhaps I should learn from the shadows, and grin in the face of the horrors around me. Instead of despairing and suffocating in this river of anguish; I could grow gills and swim with the current, twirling and ducking around in the water. Then when the waters receded long after the storm that arose them; I would find myself basking in the warm rays of sun, and warm my numb and tired limbs. But with that grin stretched on my face in the cold waters, continuing along with something a part of me couldn't agree with. A war would rage within me, that grin would flicker like a hologram but would refuse to fade.

How far could I push the fine line of conformant and madness?

The more I pondered this the more I began to remember that I no longer had the power to simply swim along with this. I had stopped and turned against this current and began to push the opposite way. The grin had been eroded from my features and I had started to claw my way up the rocks in this river or war and blood. The frigid cold made my limbs feel dead and numb sometimes, but I couldn't stop. If I slipped now, who would I bump into when I did? They would know, they would know what I had done. I would be ripped from the river and thrown to gasp and choke on the banks of the river. Slowly my lungs would collapse and my life would seep out of my body as the world would fade into nothing more than a memory.

With a grunt I pushed myself upright and dropped my head into my hands scratching my scalp viciously for a few seconds. "Why am I so worked up about this?" I asked the darkness around me, "I won't get caught…I mean, that girl will just run away from here." My voice was a whisper and the shadow gave me no answer. "She'll just run away…" For some reason when those words passed my lips they left a stinging aftertaste making me grimace. "I'll never see her again…That's how it should be." My throat felt like cotton for a moment confusing me.

So many emotions were going through me right then I felt like my head would explode. Nothing was making sense, the room felt too small for so many feelings and thoughts.

Shaking my head I reminded myself of different things that could be much worse then just feeling. I could have been like my brother, going on cocky and unfeeling through life. I forced myself out of bed and made my way over to the window, looking out through the slightly dirty glass. The world outside was silent and still, the landscape looked dead save for the occasional officer walking the grounds. I sighed and leaned my forehead against the cool glass, trying to put away all of my thoughts for a moment and relish in the simple fact I hadn't been caught. Perhaps if I could be thankful for that then whatever being created the world would have mercy on me and somehow end the war soon. Yet I doubted it would happen, for one I had never been religious and second reason being since no higher being would care for a monster like me. I had the stamp of the demon printed on my armband, it marked me as a demon myself.

Eventually I dragged myself back into bed and tossed around for a while before managing to force all the thoughts out of my head. Focusing instead on the sounds of occasional footsteps outside and on my still beating heart. Soon I felt myself drifting off into sleep, its lulling feeling numbed all my thoughts and created a sort of madness, but a peaceful one that I had every night. Normally I would think about the day and all I would be able to see would be the people; their tear soaked faces or their glares, but that night a warm feeling was licking at my stomach. For as I fell under the calming spell of sleep, the picture in my mind was of a smooth olive face framed by untamed amber hair, with large golden eyes. And for some reason the warm feel of the sight made sleep come that much swifter, sweeping over me easier than I had ever experienced.

* * *

><p>Feli was curled beside the window staring out at the moon and biting her lip. "Nonno? What am I to do?" She asked the shadows that embraced her in the dark corner of her room.<p>

She could still feel the adrenaline coursing through her when she thought about the events of the day. When he lowered her into that small space under the floor boards she was so confused and scared. She still was, but now she was so unsure what had happened. Part of her told her it was but a dream, but the other part screamed at her that it was real. Either way she knew she had felt a spark of warmth when she got close to him.

That strange feeling bewildered her, it made her curious if he had felt it too. More importantly she was confused as to why she felt warm. He was a soldier…a Nazi soldier more importantly. None of them had a heart, none of them could have possibly be that warm and gentle. His hands didn't grab at her roughly and mark her skin with bruises or cuts. Rather, they caressed her carefully, as though she were a fragile butterfly and he didn't want to hurt her wings.

After he had lowered her down he barely had time to put the board back into place when she heard another man with carefully arranged hair call him. Her memory was fuzzy and slightly messy from the excitement that was still pumping through her, but she could have sworn the other soldier said his name, but she was likely wrong, the voice was heavily accented, it didn't sound quite German though. Either way, the other soldier had said, 'Ludwig', but she wasn't sure.

The name was so blunt, almost ugly to Feli; but for some reason when it was tagged along with those icy blue eyes and that stony face, it worked. It seemed to suit him although not the most beautiful name. She mused over the name for a bit longer, wondering how he had such great reflexes.

As soon as the other soldier called his name, the board went down silently, and the blonde man, Ludwig, was at attention. He responded back in German, leaving her to only understand a few words here and there. In grade school she had learned a few words in German thanks to a student whose family had moved here from Germany. He was a very kind boy, although a bit awkward and shy. But he taught me a few phrases and words, although when she would ask him if he wanted to learn more Italian since his Italian was pretty weak, he would shy away and not talk to her.

Finally she returned to her bed and burrowed into the blankets, unsure of what to do. But knew that being tired wouldn't better her to face the next day.

* * *

><p>The following days were slow and drained the life from me, or at least, it felt that way. Everyday, every hour, every minutes was slow and sluggish, refusing to pass. The thoughts of the woman faded from my mind, only reappearing in my thoughts before I drifted to a dreamless sleep. I suppose I noticed myself falling into this disease of depression; yet I did nothing to stop it.<p>

I knew know, I had succeeded in helping her, she had escaped. Yet, here I was, no longer afraid of being caught, rather, I was afraid of not being caught. Ever since she left, the only one that created colors appear again in this monochrome world I was living in; I've felt oddly deprived. I don't know her, I know nothing about her except her beauty. Yet, I was frustrated; I had been ripped from the chance to get to know her, to uncover the mysteries of her mind, of her life; everything about her. The thoughts were so overwhelming and fascinating, my curiosity tugging violently at me. But I couldn't see her again, even if I wanted to; this was the way fate was due to play out. It was so cruel and taunting, like placing a cup of water in front of a parched slave. No matter how much they wish to take the water and let its cool feeling slip down their throat and extinguish the blaze in their body; they couldn't. If they did their master's might catch them and punish them, lashing at them with their choice of treachery. It was so sick to me, it made me wish I could find the woman and talk with her. It was so unlike me to be so eager to speak with someone I barely knew, let alone a woman, or an Italian, or especially a Jew.

That was just it, if I let myself follow my instincts and try to find her, track down that beauty, I would only drag us both down into Hell. If they caught me with a Jew; even if it wasn't romantically, they would immediately send her away to death. Me on the other hand, I might be charged for treason, and after that; who knows. What would Gilbert think? What would Anya think? Would they be disappointed? Would they be silently proud? Would they loathe me? And for some reason, I wasn't quite sure, nor will I ever be, I thought to myself, 'What would that brown eyed man think?'

Why I even remembered that man from over six days ago, the man I barely saw for more than a few seconds, confused me. That intense gaze was so strange and impossible to forget. His eyes seemed to pierce my very soul, seeing straight through me. I shuddered at the memory, it was so haunting and mysterious.

"Luddy!" Gilbert jerked me from my thoughts as he smirked from beside a vender selling delicately made sweets. "Look what I found!" I looked over to the cart and walked up beside my brother, earning a polite greeting from the man behind the cart.

For a few minutes, Gilbert asked my opinion on certain candies and which he should bring back for Anya. He rambled on about her secret sweet tooth, and her love for sweets. Continuing to fuss over which candy he should get I put my hands in my pockets, glancing around the busy market place. Behind us a group of people were passing by, their voices were loud and despite the whole world being so monochrome these people seemed perfectly fine with the lack of color. Instead they talked loudly, and I realized it was because a few were my subordinates. With them they seemed to have found a few women, all dressed nicely with their hair well kept.

As the group moved past I noticed a movement in the center of it, but opted to look at the chocolate Gilbert was raving about. Saying it might be perfect, but he wasn't quite sure still. I forced a laugh and watched him for a moment before looking back as the noise of the group fell, leaving only the omnipresent buzz of voices in the market. The narrow road was sprinkled with people, some shyly moving with yellow stars on their clothing, others boldly moving, free of a patch.

As I skimmed my eyes over the crowd, just as I was going to turn back to see if my brother had decided on a chocolate for Anya, a particular figure caught my eye. Near the wall of a shop on the opposite side of the street was a woman with a clumsy smile. It seemed as though she had been pushed out of the group that had passed by mistake, or not, either way she stood looking only slightly shaken. The woman had lightly tanned skin and thick brunette hair weaved into a large braid over her shoulder. From the tangles of her hair a curl sprang up on the side of her head. I blinked for a moment, squinting to be sure my eyes weren't playing tricks. But alas I was correct, her face was a smooth sun-kissed surface with large amber eyes, her soft features framed by her curly hair.

And I could have sworn my heart stopped for a moment.

"I-I'll be right back," Barely making eye contact with Gilbert I began to weave my way through the crowd to the woman. I could hear my brother questioning me curiously, but gave up when I had lost his voice amongst the loud hum of the other people. It was as though someone had embedded a magnet inside of me, drawing me to the woman that stood with an aura unlike anyone else I had ever seen.

Again I began to notice how the colors that had been stolen from my world seemed to leak out a bit, all coming from her. Her gentle blue dress was such a subtle shade, complimenting her warm amber hair, the colors were so hypnotizing. Those large brown eyes too, the delicate lashes framing around them, thoughts of days before came flooding back. From the details of her tears dripping down her cheeks, to the way the fabric on her dress moved when she hiccuped. Everything was vivid and brilliant, and finally I felt a flood of relief at seeing her.

Pushing through a crowd wasn't like me, at least without constantly apologizing or giving a polite 'excuse me', yet there I was, shouldering past people with confused, annoyed, even frightened faces as I passed. But I continued nonetheless, being driven on by some unknown force, my heart pounding in my chest. I couldn't believe she was there, part of me was overjoyed being able to see the woman, but the other part was shocked and panicked. She was just asking to be caught this way, the resemblance she had to the man we had captured in her house was striking. Didn't she know we would be looking for her?

Before any answers came to my mind, I found my feet bringing me to her left side. It seemed as though she had turned away, looking around for a stand I suppose carrying a specific good. For a moment I didn't know what to do, she didn't seem to realize I was there, idly glancing around. But suddenly, although in my head it felt like ages, my hand acted on its own; reaching out and plopping itself on her shoulder.

She jumped slightly before turning to see what had happened, a normal reaction, and I forced myself to keep from sweating; I was so incredibly nervous. Then those warm amber orbs locked with my icy blue eyes.

Confusion flickered in her eyes, making me almost take my hand back, worrying I had frightened her. But before I could react in any way, those eyes had grown to the size of saucers. I panicked, surely I had done something terribly wrong, she didn't remember me, that or she hated me.

So many emotions were running through me, the thoughts of staying up late in fear of being caught, the grief of everything I had done. All of it was driving me mad.

Then she hugged me.

My limbs froze and my heart stopped. The whole world felt frozen, leaving me to wonder what had just happened. 'What was going on? Why was my heart beating so fast? Why was my face so hot? Who was this girl? What was she doing here? Why hadn't she escaped? Why hadn't she taken off her star?!'

The thoughts hit me a million miles an hour, leaving me in their wake, still dumbfounded as the woman said something in excited Italian. All I could do was stay as she held me tightly, her arms locked around my neck. She was quite a bit shorter than me, the top of her head only reaching my neck. My body was still numb and shocked, rendering me unable to retch her away and question her on why the heck she was still in Italy. Was this woman an idiot? Didn't she know she should have left?

Just as I had managed to twitch my arm, my body still locked and frozen besides that; she had pulled away and was grinning at me happily. "Ve~! You came back, Ludwig~!" She said in lavishly accented English.

"H-how do you know my name?" Was the only thing I could managed out right then, the aftershock of being pulled out of my trance was a strange lingering feeling that left me in a state of slight dizziness. "Wait, who are you?"

My questions only made her grin wider, "I'm Feliciana Vargas~! I'm the girl you saved the other day, ve~!" I panicked when she said I had saved her; what was she thinking!?Ignoring manners I clamped my hand over her mouth, giving her a stern glare.

"Are you insane? Don't say that so loud." Her large eyes looked puzzled and I quickly realized I didn't say it in English. I bit my lip and ripped out my awkward English, "D-don't say that so loud."

The w- Feliciana, nodded, grinning up at me. "So why are you in the market today?" She asked, absolutely beaming with happiness.

Had she not been a woman she would have been slapped, but, as fate would have it, she was, and rather pretty too. Her ignorance was slightly annoying to me, but I suppose I could over look it for now. After all, she was probably just in shock, or something. "Better question, what are _you_ doing here." I let my voice drop to a low whisper, moving my head near hers. "Why didn't you escape, if someone you could very well be taken away. You're not safe here!"

We stayed, staring at each other, not really noticing the people around us, stuck in our own little world. Feliciana was quiet, her face had darkened a bit, her smile faltering for a moment. Honestly I felt slightly bad, of all the melancholy faces I had seen before I hadn't expected to see hers in such a state. Her eyes didn't leave mine but became noticeably vacant, as though lost in her thoughts.

Suddenly though her smile returned as though it hadn't even happened, she grinned with the brightness returning to her eyes. "What are you talking about~? This is Italy~! It's always safe here, ve~!" She chirped.

The urge to smack her was harder than ever to resist, as I stared at her. "_Lieber Gott, du bist ein Idiot._" I muttered under my breath before gripping her shoulders firmly, making her blink in surprise. "You need to get out of here. Italy is 'safe' I suppose, but not for you. Tell me, Feliciana, where are you living?"

The look in her eyes told me she didn't like being told Italy wasn't a safe haven for her, but decided not to argue with me. "At my house... The one you took Nonno from." She said, making me wonder what or who 'Nonno' was. My Italian was very weak, only knowing a few terms, mostly of food, or simple terms like 'yes'. She seemed to see the confusion in my eyes and added, "The one I hid under the bed of,"

I nodded, suddenly understanding, before letting go of her shoulders to pinch the bridge of my nose. For some reason the stress she was making me feel was almost soothing, at least it was better than the normal stress I endured after a long day. "There's a possibility of you being safe in this country if you had at least moved to a different location. But why in the world would you stay in that house!? If they notice someone living in there after they thought they had gotten all the residents, you'll be caught!" I took my hand away from my face to give her a stern glare. "You aren't safe here, can you think of anywhere you can go? Or can you just sneak out of the country somehow? Maybe get to America?"

Feliciana suddenly jumped, "But I-!..." She bit her lip, probably beginning realize that she needed to escape. Then again, she was the only woman I had ever met as air-headed as her, so I don't think I could even begin to contemplate what was going on under that amber mop of hair.

"You need to get out of here, got it?" I stared her down, her eyes losing a bit of their shine and looking down as she clutched her hands over her heart.

Feliciana nodded, "S-si...But, where do I go? I don't have much money; my boss left town..." By 'left town' I assumed it was another Jew that had been taken away. "I'm not sure I have enough for transport..." She muttered.

I bite my lip in thought, how could I get her out of here safely? Suddenly I realized though what it must look like, me, talking to this woman with a large yellow star on her chest. Acting quickly, I handed her the jacket I was wearing, "here, put this on, if my brother sees that," I pointed to the star, "I don't even want to think about what will happen."

The change of subjects seemed to put her at a slight ease, but suddenly she was as energetic as she was before. "You have a brother?" She grinned and glanced around, "Where! I want to meet him, ve~!" Felicana looked around anxiously, excited to find Gilbert; making me panic.

I quickly stopped her, "H-he's busy! Don't bother him! A-anyway, you need to leave as soon as possible, ok?" She seemed disappointed when I brought the conversation back around to her leaving. "I have to go back to Germany, I can't just run up and tell you hide or to leave every time your threatened, ok?"

Feliciana bit her lip, "Ok..." she muttered looking greatly disappointed. I sighed and reached out a hand to put on her shoulder.

"I-"

"Luddy! There you wen-!" Gilbert's scratchy voice was loud enough to be heard over the roar of the market as he waved and stopped beside me. He blinked at Feliciana for a moment before looking at me, "Well, well, well!" Those crimson eyes narrowed slyly, "Who do we have here? You can't possibly be with Ludwig, he still thinks girls have cooties!"

Immediately I glared at him as the amber eyed woman covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. "Gilbert-! What are you doing over here? I thought you were looking for a souvenir for Anya!" I tried not to sound panicked, but that was exactly what I felt.

A smirk spread on his face, "I did, stupid! I was looking for you and didn't realize you had actually managed to talk to a girl." He laughed loudly, making me wonder (yet again) how Anya could possibly stand him.

Feliciana piped up quickly, "Are you his brother?" She grinned brightly, her aura of warmth was overwhelming.

The silver haired man seemed overjoyed by her question, "Of course I am! I'm Luddy's big brother!" He reached out a hand to her, "I'm Gilbert Beilschmidt, his babysitter." Those crimson eyes flickered to me momentarily before she slipped her small hand into his and shook.

"It's more of the other way around," I glared at him before, looking back to see Feliciana holding her hand out to me now. Stupidly, I blinked down at her olive colored fingers, "uh..."

"I like formal introductions, ve~!" It almost seemed like a idiotic statement, but somehow, when it came out of those carefully shaped lips; it was somehow humorous. "I'm Feliciana Vargas, ve~! But you can call me, Feli~!" I took her hand to shake and felt my heart pick up again, likely because of Gilbert's gaze making me anxious. Either way, her small hand fit into my palm nicely, making me smile slightly.

"I-I'm Ludwig Beilschmidt," I managed out, waiting for her to let go of my hand, but she waited for some reason. The seconds sluggishly passed, each one making me loose myself in those deep amber orbs. Finally she turned to my brother, beaming and quipped.

"You too! Call me Feli~!" Then she shook his hand quickly and grinned up at us.

Gilbert had a large smirk on his face, "Well, where in the world did you find this girl, Luddy?"

I rolled my eyes, "I found her-," quickly I caught myself and effortlessly went through to say, "I found her at the bar a few nights ago, she sat down at my table and insisted on talking to me." For a man that didn't have to lie to my own brother that often I thought I had done pretty well. I glanced over at Feli trying to tell her with my eyes to go along with it.

The Italian seemed a bit confused before sensing my gaze and locking eyes with mine. She looked at me for a moment before turning back to Gilbert and grinning, "Mhm~!"

Gilbert smirked larger and as soon as he opened his mouth I knew whatever was about to come out would be bad. "So are you two like a thing now?" He winked and looked at us through sly eyes.

I panicked quickly and shook my head, "No! Nein-nein-nein-!"

Feli just blankly smiled and looked at me, "Mhm~!"

My brother seemed a bit confused by our answer for a moment before blurting, "I'll take that as a yes. Anyway, is she coming back up with us to Germany, Luddy?"

I opened my mouth to tell him what a stupid question it was, when I stopped, just as something began to click in my head. If I paid for a train for her, all her fare for the trip, I could meet back up with her in Berlin. It'd be a guaranteed safety, right? I mean, she'd be with me, and I could say she was just a lovely woman I had met in Italy who's family had recently passed away; or make up some similar story. Having her live with us would be a bit strange, but it wouldn't be forever obviously, just until I can set her up elsewhere, maybe find a way to smuggle her to America. I just couldn't tell them where I had actually met her, or that she was a Jew. She could even help

Anya around the house or go with her to work.

A slightly twinge of guilt stabbed me; honestly speaking, my only motive was of pure selfishness. It made me culpable as the plan began to unfold in my head, but at the same time I tried to convince myself I was doing it to save a girl. Not just to relieve myself of the voices, maybe even to see if I could figure out everything. Just how in the world she saw that sunrise, that beautiful landscape. Truthfully,I was incredibly jealous of her, of those gorgeous eyes that could see so much. I was so used to seeing everything in black and white, seeing everything covered in blood or darkness. It had begun to push my world into a monochrome abyss that I continued to fall deeper and deeper into. Yet, when I was around Feli, the abyss became colored, I stopped falling, everything was correct. Actually, it was better than that, it was something more. Something bright, colorful, and vibrant, it made me feel as though my heart was actually there.

When I was with her, I wasn't a monster for once.

Then, I said that one thing I never thought I would ever say as I glanced over at her, "Only if she wants to."

* * *

><p>BAM! I UPDATED! XDDD Sorry it took so friggin long! QAQ I suck. I apologize. Anyway, I managed to crank out an ending for this chapter today and I didn't proofread too much towards the middle, hopefully there aren't too many mistakes! DX Oh and expect another series to come soon-ish. This story has quite a few (crap load more) chapters for it that I have planned, the story is indeed going to pick up, and there will be fluff. . So much fluff.<p>

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia!

Please favourite and REVIEW! I love those things you don't even know! QAQ


End file.
